


this wonder, what keeps apart the stars

by erlkoenig



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, mutual pining perhaps, pre-relationship but not pre-slash, the building of Nargothrond, you be the judge - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erlkoenig/pseuds/erlkoenig
Summary: He remembers the first time he set eyes on the future Nargothrond, the desolate system of caves. Dank and damp, half-flooded and filled with rot and mold and many other things he would have rather not have had to deal with.





	this wonder, what keeps apart the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaisingCaiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/gifts).



> For my dearest RC, who asked for: _Edrahil doesn't normally get excited about features of the city proper - that's more Finrod's purview. But what's the exception, and why?_ And who then immediately told me she had no idea what she meant by that, tricksy thing. I hope this is close enough.

He remembers the first time he set eyes on the future Nargothrond, the desolate system of caves. Dank and damp, half-flooded and filled with rot and mold and many other things he would have rather not have had to deal with. 

There is a book somewhere of all of Edrahil’s regrets, and for a moment he considered scratching  _ following this fool of a prince _ onto one of the pages.

_ “My lord,” he said, the word dripping heavy with sarcasm, “A cave? Are you sure?” _

_ But Findaráto had turned that brilliant, beaming smile upon him and he felt the ice and trepidation around his heart melt. Just for a moment. “It will be grand and glorious, just you wait.” _

And, much to Edrahil’s surprise -- and secret delight -- it  _ was. _ It came in bursts, like snatches of songs hummed and echoes back further and further within the now sprawling tunnels. Stalactites dripped down from the ceiling, bright dots of glowing fungi wrapped around them like threads of silk, illuminating the halls in dull blues and greens, just enough light to be comfortable until the sconces were installed.

Vast rooms carved into being, shaped from where the water had worn at them for years and years and then with a word, a gesture they became great halls where so many of their kin could come to marvel at the work.

All the same, it was a  _ cave _ . The architecture of it could not yet hide the damp, the musty smell of a thousand years of decayed plant matter and worse. Yet everyday he would find the king in some room or other, squinting up at the wet stone and grinning.

“This is where I shall make my chambers.”

Edrahil nearly choked. “My lord, it’s--”  _ It’s rubbish. It smells. It is no place for a prince, let alone a king. _

“Speak your mind, Edrahil.” His words were sharp, but there was a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, betraying him. “I do not pay you to pay me lip service in turn.”

“I do not believe you pay me at all.”

“You wound me.” Findaráto said, pressing his fingers to his chest, mocking. “But speak, I would have your thoughts.”

Edrahil looked about them, frowning. “Well, it’s a cave. I do not know what else you would ask of me.”

“It is more than a mere cave now.” And Edrahil could feel  _ The Lecture _ incoming. “Ulmo sent this place to me in a dream and I--”

“Yes, yes. I remember well. And all the nightmares that followed as well. I have no doubt that we will be safe here, no one would think to look in a cave of all places.” There was a swear on his lips, and he rubbed at his arms through his tunic.

“There is also the river.”

“Do not pout.” Edrahil said, and he half wanted to reach out, touch that face and ease his lord’s worry and displeasure with a gesture of his own, a gentle thing. He would not,  _ could not _ , it was not his place. “You will have to do something about this standing water, it is breeding all sorts of insects.” He punctuated that with a slap to the back of his hand, a smear of blood from some little monster trying to feast upon him. He couldn’t help a sort of triumphant smile,  _ let that be a warning to your friends. _

“Yes well, I was thinking that I could --” Findaráto’s voice became a pleasant droning, one that Edrahil did not mind to hear but did not care to follow. He nodded when the king would look to him, gesturing about some new plan or design, and he would hum appreciatively or give a  _ absolutely  _  or  _ you are so right, my lord _ where expected.

At last Findaráto finished, turning to smile at him again with a soft touch to his arm. “I knew you would understand, Edrahil.”

 _Oh._ The guilt. It washed over him briefly and he ducked his head that his red cheeks would not betray him. “Of course.” He said, turning his head to clear his throat. He had not the least idea what he had just agreed to.

In the end, it hardly mattered. He saw to the day-to-day things while the new king of this place,  _ Nargothrond, _ was occupied by building and hewing and other such things. He may not care for the design, nevermind the location, but this. This he could do for him.

Days became weeks. What few of their people have come so far live half in tents, pitched within the caverns as rooms and wings take shape. Weeks became months, and when the dim light hits the stone a certain way Edrahil thought he could see the sprawling city come to life from the drawings, but then the cold resettled and it fades away.

Months became a year. The winter had come again with all the sharp memory of the Ice. How far they had come from Aman, from the bright silver-gold cities to this: a cave, in the middle of the wilderness. Surrounded by forests and dotted here and there with fen and bog. Their people moved further into the cave, and he found himself turning over words in his mind.  _ It’s not too late to give up. _

He would not have followed Findaráto had the other elf not been as stubborn as he, and deep down he wanted to see this through, in his own way.

A year became two, became three and somewhere along the way, Edrahil had blinked and Nargothrond became a kingdom proper. It was as if the stone had become as clay, shaped into great archways and towering spires. The strata seemed as though marble, layers of rock and quartz and shale in alternating lights and darks. The way the moss and creeping ivy clung to the rock faces, a burst of color and life in this place, breathtaking in all its natural wonder.

At last it felt safe, at last it felt like it could be home.

“It’s wonderful, is it not?” Findaráto had asked, stars in his eyes and moonlight in his hair. Edrahil had merely shrugged, lost, Nargothrond the farthest thing from his mind.

“It’s alright.”

“You are impossible.” But Findaráto laughed, nudged him with his elbow. “I am putting some final touches on our wing.”

His heart gave a flutter. " _ Our, _ my lord?”

“Did I stumble over my words? I would have you close to me.” LIke it was the most natural thing in the world. “Perhaps I should have asked but it must have slipped my mind. Ah, well. You will survive it, I am sure, with the right about of bribery.”

“Bribery?”

“You seem terribly confused by all of this. Are you not my most trusted of advisors?” Findaráto’s ears twitched, and there was a smile on his lips. “My only advisor as it stands, I believe. And my dearest of friends, seeing as most of the others have scattered to the winds or stayed behind like the cowards they are.”

He was barely listening, yet again. Advisor. Friend.  _ Dearest friend.  _ A room near, if not next to, his king.

Oh but this, this was more breathtaking than all the wonders of nature he had seen.

“Of course.” He said as the silence stretched between them.

“You were not listening. Again.”

He was caught, and he crossed his wrists behind his back, straightened his shoulders. “I was merely designing my chambers in my mind’s eye, my lord.” It was hardly a lie; he thought of some small thing, comfortable and even cozy for all the hard, cold stone. An adjoining room, but perhaps that was too much to ask, a door between his door and his lord’s. He had become used to being ever at Findaráto’s side, just a moment away. They would still be close, at least, but it still seemed to be too far away. What he would give for just a cot in the corner, and where did this strange possessiveness come from? Findaráto was not his to keep, and it stung. He thought of all the times he wanted to touch, as more than an advisor, a guard, even a friend.

Findaráto watched him, a curious look in those bright, blue eyes. “What price for your thoughts now? Or are you still lost in design?”

“I find myself balking at the term advisor, were I honest. I prefer a guard,  _ your  _ guard specifically, and as such I have a demand.”

Lips twitched with another barely restrained grin, a flash of teeth there for a minute and then gone. “Let us have it, then.”

He hesitated, his heart pounding. “Connecting rooms.” The words tumbled out of him, hanging in the air between them, too late to take them back.

“Naturally. What else?”

He blinked, feeling his jaw drop just so, the ache in his chest lessen.  _ Naturally,  _ like it should be so easy.  _ Naturally. _ “I suppose I should have to see these rooms before I could make any more decisions.”

That laugh again, how easily it came, high like the ring of a silver bell, and he felt as though he could breathe again, just watching, listening.

“My dear,” a hand at his elbow, guiding him back, “Let us go then, you and I, and see.”

 


End file.
